


Homewards Bound

by GalacticAesir



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-11 14:41:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8988415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalacticAesir/pseuds/GalacticAesir
Summary: When a newly healed Uther desecrates an ancient god's temple, the god demands Uther's heir be thrown off the edge of the world as punishment. Merlin intervenes but a warlock can only do so much against a god. As Merlin and Arthur find themselves at the other end of the world they must find a way to get back home.They'd better start walking.





	1. The Old Hunter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by [grimwoode](http://archiveofourown.org/users/grimwoode/pseuds/grimwoode)

 

  


 

Crisp white snow fell gently from the sky, swirling slightly in the winter winds, as the procession advanced through the mountains below. The red flags of Camelot fluttered about in the clear skies as men and horses marched up the rocky road they had set themselves upon.

Merlin looked up at the gently falling flakes and opened his mouth, attempting to catch one on his tongue. He only succeeded in tripping, rather unceremoniously, over a hole that had been hidden by the fallen snow.

As he was picking himself up someone scoffed behind him and Merlin nearly fell again, startled by the noise. He snapped his head around and there he was, the Crown Prince of Camelot himself, riding in full ceremonial armour on the back of an equally elaborately armoured horse. The prince rolled his eyes as he shook his head and whispered as he passed the servant, bending slightly towards him to offer a wry smile.

“Look where you’re going Merlin, this is a royal procession not a dainty jaunt through the woods.”

And he pointedly did not help Merlin up before continuing on his way.

“Stupid prattish prince and this stupid prattish snow.” Merlin mumbled as he shook the white powder off himself. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted the Knights of the Round Table a few rows down, pointing slyly at him and snickering.

He pouted slightly as he readjusted his blue hat and scarf. Gwen had knitted them for him and he took pride in the fact that Arthur hadn’t gotten any. He had a very fond memory of Arthur’s face when he told him where he’d gotten the gifts. A normally bold and strong face now marred by the childish, princely pout of a royal who couldn’t get what he wanted. The recollection tugged a smile on the corner of Merlin’s lips. Sure, Gwen hadn’t made one for the prince since she knew he would never get to wear it, he was the prince after all, but it was the principle of the thing. That the prince was jealous of a knitted hat. A knitted hat that Gwen made.

His prince’s obvious crush was something to behold (and quietly snicker at).

It wasn’t much but the good-natured pettiness was all it took to get a spring back in his step, jogging up the procession to head back to his spot near the prince. Unfortunately, Arthur had decided to change spots and ride next to his father and Merlin decided it would be wise to walk a short distance away from them.

While Uther hadn’t particularly cared for Merlin at any point in time, the king had been quite different since Morgana’s betrayal.

His ward’s treachery had cut a deep groove in Uther’s heart and, for a while, it seemed like it would never heal. The King had been listless and weak for so long that Arthur had been appointed as Regent King until his father’s health improved. The process had been slow and seemingly non-existent at the time but eventually, with Gaius’ help, the King returned to his former strength. Uther had woken up like a man doused in frigid water; suddenly, angrily and with great confusion. The castle had shaken from it.

It had taken no time at all for him to snap back to his former self. It was no sooner than Arthur’s demission from the position of Regent that the King declared that he would visit all his allies’ kingdoms. Despite Gaius’ worryings, the King had sent messengers to the kingdoms and preparations for the long trip had begun.

Uther’s reasoning was that, while Arthur had done an exemplary job as Regent, his temporary weakness had made the kingdom itself seem weak. Therefore, Camelot needed to remind its allies of its strength. A king visiting other’s lands with an army parading behind his heels inspired respect. Not to mention that his physical presence would dispel any rumours about his supposed weakness. And neither Gaius, nor Arthur, nor the fiercest winter in recent history would deter Uther Pendragon from showing his refound strength to the neighbouring kingdoms. It was a show of power to all his enemies and he would show them all that Camelot was as strong as it has always been.

While Merlin had been happy to see the near-constant lines of worry fade from his friend’s face, he had been less than enthused when he heard that the Prince would join his father. Which, of course, meant that he would be travelling with them.

It might not have bothered Merlin so much, after all it wouldn’t be the first time that he had accompanied the king and his son on a journey to another kingdom, but Uther had been, well, more Uther-like than usual as of late. More angry and even more hateful against magic. Somehow, the King of Camelot had convinced himself that Morgana’s betrayal had been caused by the corruption of magic within her rather than it being her own decision.

And while Merlin could withstand talk against magic, he could only withstand Uther’s new brand of harshness so much before dread and worry began crawling in his gut. Arthur, meanwhile had been interacting more with him. The thought of nearly losing his father, his last remaining family, had scared Arthur more than he liked to admit.

Merlin sighed as he watched them talk in front of him. Their newly reformed bond meant that he’d hardly talked to his friend since Uther had regained his strength. And while he’d never tell Arthur, because the prince would surely laugh at him and call him a girl, he missed him. He missed talking to him and training with him and having the prince drag him out of bed in the morning at some ungodly hour to go hunting. He missed the vitriolic way they’d travel. Nothing but jokes and the banter and insults the whole way through. The one sentence that Arthur had spared him earlier was probably the most that they had talked during their entire journey. He missed his friend walking beside him as equals instead of one riding comfortably on a horse while the other trekked along in knee-high snow in old, worn boots.

Boots, Merlin realised, that had holes in them.

At the very least, their trip was coming to an end. In three days time they would be in Camelot and he could have a nice meal, curled up in a blanket in front of the toasty fireplace in Gaius’ workshop. He tried imagining the smell of the stew and tea, the glow of ambers in the fireplace and feel of wooly socks and cold feet that awaited him back home. He could almost feel the heat and warmth seeping into him, chasing the cold out of his bones.

It only took a moment to realise that it was actually happening.

Panicking, he sealed his magic shut, cutting the thread that had burst from his very being. The chill returned to his feet and his breathing calmed. He looked around ever so slightly to see if anyone had seen something strange, but he only caught Lancelot’s eyes. Everything else seemed normal.

Merlin allowed himself a deep breath as the knight edged his horse closer. Though magic was apart of him he had been trying to stop himself from using it so instinctually. Magic was dangerous to use normally in Camelot without going about and using it unconsciously.

“Is something wrong Merlin?” came the quiet voice of Lancelot.

Merlin shook his head tiredly, the immediate fear of being caught slowly dissipating into the dull worry in the background of his mind that he was used to. He then looked around slightly to see if anyone was within earshot.

Finding none, he whispered. “I accidentally discovered a warming spell.”

Lancelot gave him an inquisitive look.

“I started thinking of home and a good meal and the fireplace in Gaius’ workshop and how warm I’d be there,” he said as Lancelot nodded in agreement. “And then I was.”

There was brief panic in the knight’s eyes. “But you’ve stopped? No one noticed.”

“No, it was just a slip up,” he admitted.

“Good,” the knight said before looking wistfully in the distance. “It’s a shame that your eyes turn gold when you use your magic. A little warmth would have been nice.”

Merlin hummed in agreement, he opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted as the other knights gathered round.

“How’s it like down there, Merlin?” joked Leon, also on a horse.

“Cold,” said Elyan jogging up on foot to catch up. “Not all of us can afford a horse.”

Percival grunted in agreement behind him, trudging along carrying most of the Knight’s bags with him. There had been a bet over a game of dice and, fortunately for Merlin, it was Percival who lost that time.

“Elyan, I’m sure you could afford a horse by now.”

“You’d be surprised,” said the knight. “The King has added a few ‘fees’ to discourage non-noble born knights from arming and equipping themselves.”

“I’m not surprised, but I’m sure that the King will see reason soon enough.”

Merlin and the rest of the “non-noble born” knights shared a glance. Leon was a great man and a good friend but he had a little too much trust in the crown he’d served under.

Steering the conversation away from that particular subject Lancelot added, “I’m sure we could all pool our funds together to help our fellow knights. Gwaine surely has enough to pay for a horse or two.”

Elyan and Percival laughed.

“Of course he would. If he didn’t spend it all on mead and dice.”

“Speaking of Gwaine, where is he?” asked Merlin, surprised that the most talkative of the knights hadn’t joined them yet.

“Right here Merlin!”

There was the brief crunch of snow behind him before an armful of snow was unceremoniously shoved down his back. Merlin was sorry to say that the yell he uttered was not the most manly or dignified of screams. Unbeknownst to them the uproarious laughter it caused made the king’s frown deepen and the prince to smile wider.

 

* * *

 

Though he had complained nearly non-stop about walking in the cold during their entire three week journey, Merlin had to admit that Gawant was a beautiful place in the winter.

Gawant was the mountainous kingdom to the north of Camelot. Though Uther and Gawant’s Lord Godwyn were close allies, the visit to his kingdom was deemed too treacherous of a route to traverse at the start of their journey when the winds were high and the sky was dark with the chance of storms brewing over the horizon. Gawant’s kingdom would be last, when the weather would be milder. Merlin was glad for that at least. The procession had been walking down a path on the mountainside for the past day and a half and while the view of the valley below was gorgeous, he knew they would have certainly lost people if they had tried to climb the mountain during a blizzard.

This particular path snaked around the mountains and ended in the Valley of the Forgotten Kings. It was an old, rarely used path but the King demanded to take it since it would save them the time of going around the mountains. A shortcut of sorts he’d overheard from a messenger. The path itself was quite large if in quiet a state of disuse. It was carved from the rock and smoothed by time, twisting and turning sharply with the mountainside. In this time of year, it was covered with ice and sleet and boulders that had fallen from overhead, unable to support the weight of the ice upon it. Those combined could easily lead to a deadly spill down the mountain if you weren’t careful.

Merlin peeked a glance at the valley below. All he could see was a pine forest that stretched out to the horizon, up and over hills and mountains. The snow covered pines and skeletal dead branches giving the forest an otherworldly sheen. It was picturesque but what caught Merlin’s attention were the few, barely noticeable temples jutting out amongst the trees. They looked old and untouched in the distance, as were the small shrines he’d spotted cut into the mountain path.

He’d read about them in his book but he’d learned even more from Gaius. The kingdom of Gawant used to be the home of the Ancients. A people whose practices predated the Old Religion. Not much was known about the people itself but their stories and myths were kept alive in certain circles.

Luckily for him, Gaius had been in that particular circle and had shared some of his knowledge on the matter. Merlin could hardly believe it the first time he’d heard Gaius mention a practice older than the Old Religion in passing. Merlin had pestered Gaius ceaselessly until he told him all he knew. About the Tree of Life and the creation of the World and the Gods and creatures that inhabited the mythic lands of ancient Albion.

Merlin wanted to know more, however. Perhaps the Ancient Ways, as he had taken to calling them, could pierce some light into a few questions he hand and the nature of magic. Gaius had, of course, warned him of the dangerous and unpredictable nature of the Ancient Ways. Not that he hadn’t learned that for himself while reading about the myths in this culture. The gods and monsters were cruel and terrifying, always trying to coerce or trick humans into doing their bidding. But still, it was something that deserved further research. What he wouldn’t give to take a look inside one of those ancient temples. The mysteries he could uncover…

The young warlock’s mind snapped back from his reverie as the sky darkened overhead. A cold wind gusted across the mountainside and Merlin looked up to see clouds above them growing more numerous. The sun began to set over the mountains and a cold shade fell over the procession. Chatter erupted in the ranks, knights and pages wondering aloud about where they would camp for the night. The falling snow began to thicken as the wind picked up again. The night shouldn’t have fallen so soon. Something was wrong here. Merlin could feel it.

He looked to Arthur and his father discussing with a group of knights on horseback up ahead. Uther nodded at the knights and they dispersed, running off at the far end of the march. Merlin trudged up to Arthur’s side.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

Arthur huffed. “The night’s fallen faster than we thought it would. We should have reached the bottom of the mountain before sundown. And this blasted storm’s not going to help us.”

“It is strange that it got dark this quickly...” Merlin could feel the darkness encroaching on them. It didn’t feel like a storm. It felt like magic.

Arthur nodded oblivious to his friend’s musing tone. “We’re trying to tighten up the formation. We ought to stay close together in this kind of weather. So keep close to me and keep up. We’ll try to reach the Valley of the Fallen Kings before camping for the night.”

“And if it gets worse?”

“Then we camp on the mountain. Come on.”

And then the Prince of Camelot tapped on his horse’s reins and moved higher up the line without looking to see if Merlin was following. The prat.

Merlin stepped up his pace to catch up with the prince and the sudden change of step reminded his legs how sore they were. Honestly, his legs and feet were reaching their breaking point. As he shoved snow aside to rejoin his prince, he reminded himself that in one more day they’d be safe and sound in Camelot.

 

* * *

 

The magic that Merlin felt swirling about the darkening clouds overhead only grew stronger as the sun dipped beneath the horizon. Its presence was still nebulous but it was enough to make him nervous. It permeated the air and became thicker and thicker even as the knights pulled out torches to combat the settling sun. Rising winds put out the torches soon enough and the thickening snow fall reduced their visibility even further.

Nervous feeling notwithstanding, it was getting colder too and the dusk gave Merlin enough cover to re-attempt the heating spell he’d discovered earlier.

The young warlock closed his eyes and tried concentrating on the spell. It was difficult to replicate what he otherwise did instinctively but concentrating the images and memories of heat seemed to help. He pulled out the energy from his core, a sliver slipped out and a feeling much like taking a gulp of strong liquor filled his chest before spreading out. The warmth slowly crept its way from there into his extremities. It felt as if sun was shining down on his skin and it chased away the cold from his aching bones and feet. Magic used and stable, he opened his eyes only to bump into the back of Arthur’s horse and fall down on his back with an oomph.

It was enough to break his concentration on the spell. He could already feel the warmth leaving his body and the cold snow seeping through the seat of his pants. Groaning, he picked himself up and looked to the prince. He expected a look or a glare, maybe an insult about how clumsy he was. Instead, Arthur looked ahead. It seemed the procession up front had come to a stop over the next bend.

“What’s happening?” Uther barked, marching forward to where the group of soldiers had stopped.

One of the men from the front jogged up to the king, bowed and spoke. Merlin couldn’t quite make out what the man was saying over the winds. Uther’s voice was booming however and Merlin had no trouble hearing him.

“Interesting,” the King said. “Show me.”

The man, the king and his son began walking away. Merlin looked to the skies and focused on the magic there. Something was strange was going on here and he had a distinct feeling it had something to do with what Uther found so interesting. The foreboding feeling in his chest pressed him into following the group and passed solemn and murmuring soldiers. It was impossible to miss what they were muttering about once they passed the sharp turn in the road.

Along the path, carved from the very mountain itself, was a temple. Four great spires erupted from the ground below the path like stalagmites clawing upwards towards the sky. All four were carved with intricate designs, noticeable even from this distance and gloom. The path they were on widened out and a cave yawned out the mountain, acting as an entrance to the temple. Statues and smaller spires decorated the path to it, even the walls were carved with reliefs depicting strange creatures and beings. Remnants of rope and cloth clung to spires, tossing in the wind as chimes of bones rattled. The soldiers behind them ceased talking and an eerie silence crossed the path.

A warning bell erupted inside of Merlin. He could sense the magic in the air above them but it was nothing compared to what he felt emanating from the temple. He knew magic and he knew that whatever was in there was nothing like him or anything he’d seen before. It was ancient and powerful and other. His stomach churned as all his senses told him to run and leave whatever was in that temple alone.

Eyes wide, Merlin turned to the king and prince. Uther looked up to the temple with furrowed brows, breath visible as he took in its appearance, then he nodded to himself. And Merlin then heard the words he would regret hearing for the longest time.

“This will do nicely. We’ll hide out the storm in there.”

Dread knotted in his stomach and stopped Merlin from speaking up. Oh no, this was bad. Very, very bad. With such a powerful magic emanating from it, it was no doubt home to whatever caused the quick nightfall that lead them to this decision. But although Uther feared magic, he was not a superstitious man. He would not care for any warnings about ancient gods and terrifying creatures of days long past. And although he was hard pressed to admit it, they were still too far up the mountain to risk marching down the path blindly. They needed shelter for the night.  
Before Merlin could begin to order his thoughts in a way that made sense and wouldn’t sound completely bonkers if spoken to Arthur, messengers had been sent to the rear notifying them of the order.  
Steeling himself as the front of the procession began their wall towards the temple, he marched with the prince, prepared to do what he could to protect Arthur and the people of Camelot.

 

* * *

 

Merlin carefully peeled his soaked socks from his feet and laid them next to his boots by the fire. He scrunched up his toes in an attempt to get feeling back in them but he felt nothing but the prickly sensation of too-cold feet. Giving up, he laid down on his bedroll and propped his feet on the rocks by the fire.

“Hell of a trip eh Merlin?” said Gwaine.

Merlin groaned, attempting to convey all his emotions through that one sound. Gwaine responded by laughing and patted his knee as he sat down. Elyan, Percival and Lancelot joined them at the fire also taking their boots off.

“You truly need some new socks Merlin.”

Merlin didn’t bother getting up to respond to Lancelot, his toes were starting to regain feeling and it was too much trouble to move after all the walking they did.

“I can’t afford it. It cost me enough to buy my bedroll.”  
Merlin couldn’t see it but he could definitely hear the knight’s frown through his words.

“You could get sick. Or worse.”

“Or worse?”

Percival nodded. “There was a man who lived by himself in my village. He said the cold didn’t bother him. One winter he went to work in the woods while we all stayed inside. Blasted winter that one was. When he came back to the village his feet were blue. Had to cut ‘em off.”

“Gaius warned me that socks can stave off frostbite and to be careful but he never mentioned anything about amputation. Can it really get that bad?”

“Oh yeah.” said Gwaine. “It’s dangerous to not have a few good pairs of sock on you for a journey like this. Trust me, I’ve travelled a lot.”

“Don’t worry Merlin, I’m sure I can ask Gwen to knit you some,” Elyan wiggled his bright red socked feet. “Haven’t felt the cold yet.”

“Sounds nice.”

The knights talked amongst themselves, leaving Merlin to enjoy the newly regained feeling in his feet. They talked about sleeping in their own beds in Camelot and how creepy the temple they were in was. Merlin silently agreed.

The temple had been carved out of a cave. The stone had been sculpted to cathedral high lengths with pictographs and representations of ancient rituals and creatures. Stalactites were barely visible on the ceiling of the cavern, the little fires they’d made barely piercing through the darkness. It only emphasised how big the temple was that they were only in the antechamber. The few soldiers that had scouted out the place before they’d set up camp all returned with news of other entrances or doors that lead farther inside.

Although he’d recognized the glyphs from the Ancient Ways, he could not read them. From the pictographs however he’d been able to deduce that the temple was built for a hunter god that roamed the forest and mountains around the temple. And they were not a peaceful god. Many of the depictions had rituals where practitioners sacrificed animals to the god and, in one particularly nightmarish relief, humans, to guarantee a good hunt. These had interested the knights and soldiers on arrival but they would rather rest for the last leg of their journey than delve deeper into the temple.

All for the better, Merlin thought. If anything, the foreboding sense of danger he felt when he saw the temple only tripled now that he was inside it. The knots in his stomach would fade in and out keeping his senses on high alert for any magical danger. All he could feel for now was the same nebulous presence he’d felt from the darkening clouds. He felt paranoid. If the presence was as strong as he felt it was, there was no way it couldn’t sense him. And if so, why hadn’t it done anything yet?

Merlin propped himself up on his elbows and squinted into the fire as he pondered just what exactly the presence was. He wasn’t sure if he believed in gods. Spirits and beings and creatures with immense magical powers, yes. He’d faced many before, but gods? Those were another thing entirely. His train of thought was interrupted with the sound of chinking mail approaching. He looked up to find Arthur walking towards their group.

“What?” he said to the oncoming prince.

Arthur scowled at him.

“Is that any way to treat your prince?” he asked in return.

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

Eyes rolled to the back of his head. “Get up. All of you. And do remember that my father is present, Merlin.”

Merlin got his still wet socks and boots on and got up. He couldn’t help but feel he knew exactly what Uther wanted and he wasn’t liking it one bit.

“My father wants us to explore the rest of the temple,” Arthur said as he looked to his servant and the knights. Merlin muttered an ‘oh great’ under his breath. “We’re to look for any potential dangers. Bandits, creatures, anything that could be a threat to us as we sleep. Though I believe we should also be wary of any magical beings in the temple. Once that’s done, we’ll secure a perimeter around this room. Got it?”

The knights nodded.

“Merlin, you’re with me.”

“May I assist you as well, sire?” asked Lancelot, giving Merlin a brief glance.

“Of course. The rest of you split into groups, there’s a few different passages we need to check.”

Once they were ready, they left the relative safety of the fire and joined a small group of knights with Leon in their midst gathered in front of a gigantic archway which lead further into the temple. Merlin noticed that Uther would be joining their group as well. Fantastic.

“Ah Arthur, there you are. We can commence then,” the King said, walking past the archway into the small area beyond. “My main concern are for any bandits that might be using this place as a base. Magic users might also be prowling the temple however, certainly hoping to find more power in these ancient ruins. It goes without saying that should you find any you should kill them on sight.”

The knights nodded, well used to the orders. Merlin however could never get used to the hate in the man’s voice nor to the feeling that all the knights around him would surely skewer him on the spot if they knew about his magic. Instead of listening to the king’s droning rant about magic, the warlock attempted to distract himself with the carving on the side of the small corridor. He assumed it was a corridor, it was hard to tell in the darkness with only a few torches and the glow of the fires in the antechamber to guide them. It was enough to make out the glyphs however, these ones depicted the origins of the world. It was a legend that was still told today albeit more as a myth than fact. It was the story of a tree that held up their world on a plate and dangled stars from its branches. It showed the world eater snake twisting amongst the branches waiting for the day it would swallow the sun whole and end the world.

He pulled his attention from it once Uther’s speech against magic stopped. By that time they had reached the end of the corridor. A massive, crumbling wooden door blocked their path. It too showed the World Tree in chipped relief. Uther harrumphed and signed his men to open the door. The two nearest grabbed one of the metal rings embedded in the door and pulled. It might have been grand once but as they pulled the door, bits of rotting wood cascaded down the side of it and it creaked from the movement. The hinges had been rusted by time however and soon there were four man pulling with all their might until it finally gave way to nothing but darkness.

The lights of the fires in the antechamber did not reach this far and the torches were not bright enough to pierce the thick blanket of darkness. Light had not touched this chamber in ages. Uther was unphased by this however.

“Spread out and look. I want no tunnel or room left unexplored. Look for exits so that we may post sentries. Arthur, with me.”

The knights, armed with their torches and swords marched forward into the dark. Arthur walked in front with his father and Leon as Merlin and Lancelot took the rear of their little group.

The walk was silent, every man trying to listen for any possible dangers lurking about but there was nothing but the creaking of wood and the tap of boots on rock. At least until Merlin hit the side of a column and fell, stumbling onto some old vestiges.

Merlin grimaced, at once because of the pain and at the incredibly loud racket he’d just caused. Something had bounced off his foot and hit something made of metal which sent a loud crash echoing through the chamber. If there was someone or something hiding in the temple, they certainly knew about them now.

“Merlin!” Arthur hissed. “What part of ‘stealth’ don’t you understand?”

Uther sighed, discontent. “Why do you insist on dragging the boy around if he’s to cause such a racket?”

Lancelot offered his hand and Merlin took it, using the man’s help to straighten up.

“Sorry my liege, I did not see the column,” was all he could say.

“Column?” Arthur said.

“Yeah over here,” and he pointed in the direction of it.

Arthur went over to inspect it as Uther followed. Only now in the torch’s light did he realize that it was a large, metal bowl sitting on a pedestal. It seems there was still some wood and a tar-like substance in the bottom of it.

“Well, it’s not like they wouldn't know we were already here,” Arthur mumbled to himself before bringing the torch to the kindle.

The dry kindling caught immediately and bathed the area with an orange glow. Though it was still dark, it did not seem as crushing. The brazier’s light only extended to show the shadow of another one further down from them. More fires erupted farther down the halls as other knights followed suit. It was still not enough to uncover the cavern in its entirely though it did highlight how immense the main cavern was.

Merlin took the opportunity to look down at what he had tripped on that had made such a noise. Besides him was a table that time had eaten away. The legs on one side had crumbled and its contents were spilled over the floor. What caught his eye was a skeleton. A small human skeleton toppled from an iron platter. Small instruments were littered around it, Merlin didn’t know whether they were supposed to be cutlery or some kind of awful skinning tools. He shuddered. And Uther noticed.

“The Old Religion is rife with corruption and cruelty but the Ancients were evil in worse ways. Be wary,” he said, tone serious and grave before walking away. “All the more reason to search this temple.”

They pressed forward into the darkness, lighting the brazier as they passed and looking for anything that would be out of the ordinary. As it was, there wasn’t much in the cavern and there certainly wasn’t anything alive. Once perhaps but everything was covered in a thick crust of dust and did not seem to have been used since the last time the door was opened though only the skeletons knew for sure.

They stayed near the far left wall in an attempt to find other rooms or hallways that could be used as hiding spots but there were none. They reached the far end of the cavern before the rest of the knights, their tiny torch lights flickering about the room.

Once more, Arthur spotted a brazier and put it alight. This time the flame that erupted spread along some planned path riddling with kindling and tar. The flames blazed and spread out to other nearby braziers slowly illuminating an altar. The light revealed every detail of it in a stark contrast.

The altar reached to the very top of the cavern. A statue of the hunting god rose up to loom over them, sitting on a throne of tree branches. The god had the legs of a workhorse, strong and muscular with the torso of a man. A fox’s tail brushed its legs. Its hands were wolf paws, sharp claws held a gutted rabbit in one hand and a bow in the other. A bear pelt was draped over its shoulder, its head hanging off a shoulder, displaying an open maw. Its head was that of a moose's antlers stretching out like tree branches high over its head to reach the stalactites on the ceiling. The moist cavern walls dripped water and it seemed to run like blood down the rabbit carcass and the beast’s mouth.

A small platform cornered by spires presented itself beneath the statue. Rusted chains stretched from the top of the small spires to the altar, probably used to keep the sacrifices from escaping. Bones littered the ground around the altar along with tools and daggers, broken and rusted with age. The altar itself was clean, if dusty. Ornate cups of gold and silver sat upon it along with dried flowers and herbs. Most disturbing however was the decapitated deer head that rested with its head held high upon the altar. It seemed fresh with oozes seeping from its neck. Berries were hung on its antlers and a thorned golden crown sat atop its head. Well this is creepy...

Merlin saw the flickering flame reflected in the deer’s open eyes. It looked like they moved towards him. His breath hitched.

“I don't like this place.” he whispered to himself.

Lancelot, perceptive as always, put a hand on his shoulder and gave him a reassuring squeeze but it did nothing to make him feel better.

“Magic?” he whispered, taking care that Arthur and Uther not overhear.

Merlin nodded and whispered, “I’ve never felt something so wrong. And powerful.”

Lancelot hummed. “We should be careful then. Do you know what it is?”

Merlin shook his head. “No. I can feel it and I know that it can sense me but it’s not doing anything. Like it’s waiting.”

“Maybe it won't do anything unless we disturb it,” he proposed.

“We’ve already disturbed the temple. Unless,” Merlin looked at the deer’s head. It was where the magic was strongest. “unless it’s the altar that shouldn't be disturbed.”

As if on cue, Uther, who had been scowling as he inspected the altar, spoke up.

“This is exactly the kind of dark sorcery that nearly ruined Camelot. Every aspect of it should be wiped clean off this earth. Arthur!” he barked. “Get some kindling to burn this altar. Though it is not my kingdom, I know Godwyn shares my beliefs and would thank you to rid this monstrosity off his land.”

Arthur nodded, gathering some kindling from an unlit cauldron. He motioned Merlin and Lancelot to do the same.

“I-I think this might be a terrible idea,” he spoke aloud to Arthur and Uther this time. He was certain that it would only bring out whatever had lead them here and hoped he could steer their minds. He motioned to the statue towering above them. “I mean, I wouldn’t want to make it angry.”

Uther scoffed and Arthur rolled his eyes.

“Merlin stop being such a petticoat. It’s an old statue that’s been abandoned for ages. It’s not going to come alive and eat you. Now, help me with this kindling.”

The servant could only make out a vague noise of reluctant affirmation as he joined Lancelot, Leon and Arthur in picking up kindling. He placed them on a corner of the alter, wanting to stay as far away from the deer head as he could. Now that he was closer he could make out ruins on the platform, some drawn on with chalk and some etches into the stone. They were magical in nature and there seemed to be many different ones on the table. It only worsened his fears when he could make out what seemed to be a ritualistic spell that would give different powers to the caster depending on which animal was sacrificed.

He shared a glance with Lancelot. A silent warning to be on guard.

Finally, when they covered the altar in kindle, Arthur went to dip his torch on it when the sound of footsteps reached their ears. They turned around, expecting to see a group of knights reporting from their search or a sorcerer ready to attack. What they found was an old man.

“I would not do that if I were you,” he said, voice old and thick with an unplaceable accent.

The man was old, wrinkled and weary but he held himself like a man in his prime. His skin was dark like tanned leather in the altar’s light and his eyes shone much in the same way as the deer. He had long white hair and an unkempt beard with twigs and leaves woven into the hairs. He wore nothing but pelts and furs stitched together to make rudimentary clothing and a necklace of small bones hung around his neck. He did not seem to have any weapons.

Merlin’s eyes widened. The presence he had felt, the powerful other-ness that he felt radiating through the cavern, it was all originating from the old man. He spared Merlin a glance and a wicked smile before turning his attention to the king.

“Who are you?” Uther asked.

“I am but an old hunter, my liege.” the man said still smiling. He had too many teeth for the smile to be anything but menacing and his strange accent twisted his words into something threatening. “The Father of the Hunt does not take kindly to those who defile his altar. For he is powerful and without mercy to those who do not show him the respect he rightfully deserves.”

“Was that a threat?” Uther asked. “Do you dare threaten a king?”

The old hunter chuckled, low and deep. “One would be wise to heed my words, king. The Father of the Hunt demands a sacrifice to appease him if he is angered and only the heretics’ most precious possession will befit the Great Hunter.”

“We should probably do as he says,” said Merlin weakly. It was dangerous to give advice to the king but he found no other option.

“We will not take part in your barbaric ceremonies, hunter,” Uther spoke, completely ignoring Merlin, disdain dripping from his voice. “Surrender to us or we shall be forced to take your life.

Another laugh, showing the man’s too many sharp teeth. “I am not so easily killed. And it is you that should beware and leave. Leave the altar be or face the consequences of a god’s wrath.” Merlin couldn’t help but think that the old hunter was trying to goad the king into it.

“We will not surrender to you and your dark ways hunter!” Uther said, angered by the threat, and he took Arthur’s torch from his hands and set the altar ablaze.

The reaction was instant. The old man’s form began to flicker in the darkness, though Merlin seemed to be the only one aware. He was sure the others would have reacted if they had seen the old man sprout antlers from his head and seen the claws in his hands.

“You will pay for your transgressions!” his voice boomed. “Your most precious gift shall be sacrificed to the Great Hunter. You have one day to comply or your future holds nothing but ruin for your kingdom!”

The hunter stepped towards Uther and Arthur reacted in movement before his mind could process it. He jumped forth, pulling his sword out of its sheath in one go, and stabbed the old hunter in the chest.

A thunderous roar echoed through the cavern as the old man disappeared in a cloud of smoke. The acrid stench of it mixing with the smell of burning flesh from the deer’s carcass. The temple fell silent for a moment as those around the altar attempted to make sense of what just happened. Soon though, the sound of rushing footsteps and yells of concern from the other knights came to them.

“Well,” Uther said. Shock still clear in his voice despite his stoic response. “It seems we have taken care of the magic user inside this temple.”

But Merlin was not so certain. In fact, the cloud of smoke all but confirmed that the hunter was still alive. Arthur’s blow had not killed him, if it could even be killed, and the presence of the hunter’s magic only became more ominous. He could now feel the eyes of the god looking at him. Daring him to challenge him.

But he wouldn’t. And the god was disappointed.

The other knights reached them and the burning altar and Uther resumed what had happened. He told them Arthur had bravely defeated the sorcerer and that the temple should be safe now. Lancelot looked to Merlin, worry in his eyes, disbelieving the king as much as Merlin was.

They begun to walk towards the antechamber, back to camp. A few knights were left to guard the inner temple in case there were more sorcerers or creatures inside. But Uther was confident that Arthur’s kill would have scared the rest of them off into hiding. Arthur bid the rest of them goodnight and left to rest in his tent. Merlin stole one last glance at the Father of the Hunt’s statue at the end of the cavern, the fire of the altar lighting the statue from below. Its eyes looking at the resting knights, watching.

Merlin didn’t sleep that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As sort-of implied in the fic, this story diverges from the Merlin canon somewhere in between Season 3 and 4 and then continues on from there. It still incorporates a few elements from the beginning of season 4 though because my fic, my canon dammit. I'll bend it to suit my whims, continuity be damned!
> 
> Hope you like it, there's hopefully a lot more of it to come. Feel free to comment or ask questions!


	2. Wrath of the Ancients

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by [grimwoode](http://archiveofourown.org/users/grimwoode/pseuds/grimwoode)

  
  


 

Merlin blinked, the sting of exhaustion making his eyes water, and groaned.

He couldn’t sleep last night. The creeping paranoia caused by the hunter’s too-near magical presence would not let him rest easy. Nothing happened during the night however and Merlin’s silent vigil left him feeling hollow and tired.

At least the others were happy, he thought as he looked at the rest of the knights walking and riding beside him. They were cheerfully talking to one another, grinning and making jokes. It was the last stretch of their journey and they would be reaching Camelot before nightfall. They had already passed the Valley of the Fallen Kings this morning, the mountain shortcut they’d taken leading them down into the valley. He shared their excitement. The thought of home was the sole reason he hadn’t just let himself crumple into some miserable mess and let himself be trampled by the army marching behind him.

His feet still dragged along however, his dazed state making him all the more likely to trip over himself. The Knights of the Round Table had joked and teased him for most of the morning. He appreciated when they finally started growing concerned, even if it was only after the fifth time he’d taken a spill. It was no surprise that Lancelot seemed the most worried.

If only just because he knew exactly why he hadn’t slept.

“Do you think that the hunter still is a danger to us Merlin?” the knight asked once they were far enough away to not be overheard. Merlin’s slow steps and droopy disposition giving them an excuse to lag behind.

“Mmm,” Merlin pondered. “I don’t know anymore. They were powerful, one of the most powerful creatures I’ve met but… I haven’t sensed them since leaving the temple.”

“Does that mean anything?”

“It could,” he paused to yawn and continued. “From what Gaius and his books have taught me, some spirits can be bound to places or objects. They can shout and curse but are unable to reach their full potential. If that’s the case with the hunter then we shouldn’t have to worry.”

Lancelot looked at him gravely. “And if it’s not?”

“ _Then_ , we worry,” light tone betraying his unease.

 

* * *

 

There was not a more beautiful sight than Camelot’s snow covered tower’s poking out from behind the woods glinting from the midday sun. A sigh of relief weaved it’s way through the ranks as their goal came into view. The procession’s pace quickened as everyone thought of the good night’s sleep they would have and the warm meals they’d be eating in a few hours.

Merlin didn’t want to admit it but he’d felt a kind of homesickness from being away from the stone castle for so long. He briefly wondered when he’d start thinking of Camelot as his home and a fuzzy feeling filled his chest. Though that last one might have been the sip of strong that Gwaine had convinced him to take. It tasted horrible but gave him the energy he needed to make the final stretch. He and Lancelot had advanced to march along the front, near Arthur and the King.

As they neared the castle, a horn sounded. The sentries had seen Camelot’s banners and announced to the court and town that the King was returning. An escort of knights on horseback were sent to welcome them back.

As the castle doors opened for them, a parade was already taking form. Music was playing and Camelot’s citizens lined the street to the castle courtyard to see their king marching home with his knights. Dried flowers were thrown before the king and the crowd cheered as they passed while snow gently fell around them like confetti. Women brought out pieces of bread and fruit for the knights as they passed by. Merlin smiled as he saw Arthur wave and salute at a few young boys with wooden swords pledging over the cheering of the crowd that they were going to be knights. The knights cheered right back and let them crowd around to ask questions. Leon was letting a brother and his sister ride on his horse while Percival and Gwaine had children hanging off their arms, laughing loudly at their antics. Ever since the Knights of the Round Table had formed and the knights began accepting commoners into its circle the kingdom had a new swarm of small willing warriors.

Finally, they reached the castle courtyard and found the Council standing at the doors of the Citadel with the castle staff standing on the steps to welcome back their liege. The young warlock waved at Gaius who, Merlin noticed, was visibly relieved to see that they’d made it back in one piece. Merlin also noticed with a grin the way Arthur’s eyes had lit up when he saw Guinevere waving at him too and made a small gesture of his own.

Everyone dispersed soon after that, chattering along the way with friends and family they hadn’t seen weeks. Arthur joined Uther for the latter’s speech on the balcony but not before telling Merlin that he was excused until dinner where he’d need to dress him and return to his regular duties. Arthur’s excuse, and Merlin could easily tell that it was an excuse, was that he’d be doing rounds around the castle and would not have time to sit down until the banquet. Merlin was surprised to find out that he probably looked just as bad as he felt. Guinevere was obviously concerned but even Gwaine and the knights told him to get some sleep before the big feast tonight, evidently the news travelled fast. Uther hadn’t even begun his speech yet. At the very least, it gave him an excuse to head straight to Gaius’ chambers after the King’s announcements, bounding across the well remembered castle hallways to the incredibly familiar wooden door.

Merlin opened the wooden door and stepped inside. Immediately feeling the worse of his journey leaving his bones. The fireplace crackled and popped and candles burned. The musty smell of old books, drying herbs and the twinge of odd concoctions mixed together in the air. It felt like home, though it was missing a crucial part until Merlin spotted him coming down the staircase at the far end of the room.

“Gaius!” Merlin called to get the older man’s attention as he ran up to the man and wrapped him in a hug.

“Merlin, I see you’re doing rather well,” he said before scrunching up his face and waving a hand in front of his nose. “If a bit drunk. Who gave you Bull’s Blood?”

“Gwaine.”

“Ah,” he said as if that answer explained everything. “How was the trip? Nothing... out of the ordinary I hope?”

Merlin smile fell. “About that.”

“What happened?” the older man asked, suddenly serious.

“We took a shortcut through the mountains from Gawant. And, there was a temple. A really old temple. From the Ancients.”

Gaius’s eyebrows furrowed deeper. “The Ancients? Merlin, that is powerful magic.”

Merlin nodded. “I know. I felt it. In the temple, I mean.”

“Merlin, tell me you didn’t.”

“We were walking down the path and a storm came in from nowhere. The sky darkened and snow began falling harder and harder. Uther decided it was safer to camp inside the temple than risking the path at night.”

“Uther should know not to mess with the Ancients.”

“Well,” Merlin said stretching the word out. “He did a tad more than that.”

Gaius waited for Merlin to continue but he was looking a shade paler than before.

“He burned the altar in the inner temple. But not before an old hunter came to warn him that he’d regret it. He warned us that the ‘Father of the Hunt’ would take Uther’s most precious gift. Arthur saw that as a threat and stabbed the hunter who disappeared into a cloud of smoke. Uther and Arthur thought it meant he was dead but… I could feel it still. A powerful magic, stronger and older and stranger than any I’d felt before. It was the hunter I’m sure of it. Whatever he was, it wasn’t human.”

Gaius, who had been listening intently to Merlin’s story, steepled his hands together as he processed the information.

“This is bad Merlin,” he breathed out in a heavy sigh.

The young man nodded and let Gaius continue.

“The Ancients are not to be trifled with. If that temple was indeed from one of those olds gods then it’s quite certain that the god will hold Uther to his threat. What did he threaten exactly? The Ancients make a great deal out of promises and threats and their wording is important.”

“Your most precious gift will be sacrificed to the Great Hunter. You have one day to comply or your future holds nothing but ruin for your kingdom,” he parroted.

“One day. I would then expect the god to hold his word until exactly 24 hours from the time he uttered the threat.”

“It was already dark by the time we settled in. But, that would be…!” Merlin swore.

“Language Merlin.” Gaius said, not skipping a beat.

“It would happen sometime during the banquet tonight.”

Gaius made a frustrated noise. “Then we should use our time now to find out what we can on our foe and prepare.”

“What if it isn’t a god?”

“Only one way to find out,” Gaius said, grabbing a stack of books and dropping them in front of Merlin. “Research.”

 

* * *

 

While it was not the first time that Gaius and Merlin needed to quickly research a weakness for a magical foe or monster of some kind, they found themselves ill prepared. They did not have much time to read as the banquet was but a few hours away and their reading material was scarce. The amount of magical tomes and books that Gaius risked having was scarce enough in and of itself even with the additions that Merlin pilfered from the hidden chamber in the library.

The first thing they could ascertain was that the god was not like any other creature that they had faced. Merlin’s hope that it had only been a spirit or any other mundane creature were quickly dashed.

A book, the only book about ancient mythology they had on hand, confirmed the god’s identity. Wōden. The Father of the Hunt. Notable in that he was the god that presided over the hunt of animals and man, the Ancients finding no distinction between the two. The depiction of him in the book they had found matched the statue Merlin and the others had found in the temple. Though Wōden was also depicted with other animal parts, like the tail of a wolf or the head of a bear. It was perhaps a clue that he could shapeshift. It would explain why he was able to take the form of an old hunter, a fact that prompted further research into that line of powers. One passage confirmed it and listed that though he could shapeshift into a human to trick mortals, the god was bound to keep one animal aspect in his transformations. Typically a tail, claws or ears as those were easily hidden. No weaknesses, however.

As the sun dipped over the horizon, they were still no closer to finding any weaknesses to exploit. They would be able to spot him if he made an appearance in court attempting to blend in the massive crowd that would be attending it.

At the very least, they were quite sure what the target would be. The old texts often made a reference to the Gift of Life, making the god’s plan obviously to murder the king but without any other information they would be hard pressed to stop a god.

A few suggestions were thrown about between the two of them. Salt and iron could potentially harm the god. They were useful against the undead and the god’s otherworldly nature might make him vulnerable to these elements as well. Word games and, especially, challenges figured heavily in texts featuring the deities of the Ancient Ways. The texts would suggest that the gods were competitive and haughty beings who adored showing their vast strength to mortals. A few tales spoke of mortals who challenged the gods for untold riches or immortality, a tale that quickly turned grim. From what they’ve read, Wōden would certainly agree to a challenge but it would be a hunting feat and Merlin could not resolve to win at that.

Before they could find anything of worth, a servant knocked at the door to remind Merlin that his presence would be required at the Prince’s side.

Merlin thanked the servant and waited until he left before getting up. Gaius glanced up from the book he had been riffling through.

“I’ll look into the books in the library while you serve Arthur but...”

“Don’t expect much?” Merlin helpfully suggested.

“We might be over our heads, Merlin,” Gaius conceded.

“I supposed I’ll need to figure something out then. That’s fine. I’ve done it plenty of times. We’re still alive so far. What’s a god compared to a dragon or Morgause?” he tried to convince himself.

“Just. Be safe.” Gaius said, leading him to the door and giving him an encouraging pat to the shoulder. “We’ll get out of this.”

But years of hiding and living with Gaius showed Merlin how good of a liar he was. This time, it was plain as day.

 

* * *

 

Merlin wove his way through the crowd of noblemen and aristocrats in Camelot’s banquet hall though his mind was too busy scanning each person he came across to really pay attention to the plate in his hands. By the time he had reached Arthur’s seat quite a bit of the flair and presentation that the castle chef had put into the crown prince’s personalized dish had been ruined. Arthur shot Merlin a look as his servant deposited his misshapen meal in front of him without looking. Merlin was still scanning the crowds, looking for something, anything that looked off in the guests. Maybe someone in a pelt? He hadn’t felt a magical presence yet but that sense wasn’t always accurate.

“Merlin?”

“Hmm?” Merlin responded, not listening. Still looking around.

“Merlin!”

This time, the prince’s voice alerted him, making him jump and twist to face him. Did he spot something? Was he in danger? His magic surged forward, ready to be used at a moment’s notice.

Arthur was glaring at him. It only took Merlin a few seconds to realize why. But rather than yell some more Arthur eyed him suspiciously.

“What’s gotten into you?” he asked. “You’re more spooked than usual.”

“Ah, um well yes. Nothing.”

Arthur squinted. “You haven’t slept at all have you.”

“Ah, no,” Merlin didn’t bother lying.

“And why is that? Are you- Are you still afraid of that sorcerer in the temple?” His voice filled with humour and teasing. The prince continued in a singsong voice with a smirk tugging at his lips, “Don’t worry Merlin, I killed him. The spooky old hunter can’t hurt you anymore.”

Merlin began to stutter, attempting to find a good excuse to be paranoid that did not immediately reveal his magic to the entire court. Thankfully, and strangely enough, Uther had come to the rescue. He’d been speaking to a counsellor to his left but had obviously been listening to their conversation and perked up.

He lifted his goblet into the air, a sign that the king wished to speak. Soon the crowd silenced itself and the king began to speak, loud booming voice carrying across the hall.

“Hear! A toast! To my son,” he gave Arthur’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “And his bravery. Who fought and killed a sorcerer just last night to defend me!”

The crowd began to cheer as Arthur attempted to shush it.

“Truly, father. It was nothing,” he said but his father only patted him on the shoulder once more.

“Brave and humble!” Uther spoke, causing another applause.

“Really…” Arthur began saying, only to realise that his father was too drunk to be calm  as he usually was. Despite the earlier teasing, Merlin gave him a sympathetic wince.

Now Uther was standing up, unsteadily at that, and Arthur forced the temptation to facepalm himself in front of the whole court down. He raised his goblet again.

“To the future king of Camelot!”

Another uproar swept the hall. The clapping and cheering died down but the roar remained. Noblemen and servants looked around murmured and looking about for the source of the noise.

Merlin felt it then. The presence he’d felt in the temple, here, in Camelot’s banquet hall. It swooped from the sky and enveloped the kingdom. At the same time wind began to rush outside, pelting the banquet hall’s windows with snow and ice. It rattled the glass and shook the foundations. The crowd fretted, worried at this strange weather phenomenon. Some were already looking wary, Camelot’s war against magic making them quick to jump to conclusions. And then, the glass shattered.

Thousands of pieces of coloured glass fell to the marble floor as a powerful wind knocked down the windows. The air current twisted and turned, throwing snow and food onto the unsuspecting and now screaming guests who ran for cover. Arthur and the knights stationed around the hall were already pulling out their swords. Merlin stood, ready for anything.

Out of the twister of snow, a giant hoof came stomping down on the marble floor, shattering the stone. Another soon followed it and the twister of wind and snow fell to reveal a horrible creature. A duplicate of the statue they’d found in the temple.

The Father of the Hunt stood before them, tall and menacing. His face, that of a wolf, dripped blood from it’s mouth onto his bare chest, as if he had been devouring fresh prey. Fur grew out of his back like a bear pelt, covering his strong muscles, growing to become a fox tail. He lifted a clawed finger to Uther, jaws snapping and revealing his sword-length teeth in a snarl as he spoke.

“Uther Pendragon, son of Ulfric Pendragon, slayer of dragons and King of Camelot!” the deep voice of the hunter boomed from the wolf’s maw. “You have defiled the temple of Wōden, Father of the Hunt. Your price to pay was a sacrifice or the lost of your most precious gift. Where is my sacrifice?”

Uther’s rage was potent. “I will not sacrifice anything in your honor, beast!” he hollered. “Guards! Kill him!”

The knights stationed around began to charge, most of the banquet goers having already fled from the god. They were knocked aside like leaves to the wind, hitting the walls of the hall with a dull thud and crack.

The god laughed, an evil and cruel sound. “Mere mortals against a god.” It laughed again, effortlessly disposing of the rest of the guards and knights. It’s head snapped to Uther.

“Did you think you could oppose me? Defeat me? Uther Pendragon, your price to pay is your most precious possession,” the god growled, the castle rumbled at his words. “And what’s more precious to a king than his heir?”

Arthur. He was going after Arthur. Merlin spared the prince a glance. Determination was set in his features, of course he’d rather face a god than run away.

“Your son shall be thrown off the edge of the world, Pendragon! To be devoured by the Great Snake Ouroboros. See what your pride has wrought!”

The creature reached a claw over its head and magic began to glow from its palm.

Merlin knew that glow. The god was teleporting Arthur. Not killing him directly. Merlin hadn’t had any success in his own endeavors with the school, teleportation being wildly spells that required a precision that he did not yet possess. What he had learned though was that it was easy to land way off course.

The god’s portal grew in size and Merlin readied himself. Uther cried out as the god threw the portal in Arthur direction. As soon as the magic left the monster’s hand Merlin threw himself at Arthur, tackling him to the side just as the portal hit them, slightly off center. Feeling that they were getting pulled away Merlin lifted his hands and called his magic forth, eyes flaring gold. He commanded the portal, telling it to send them home, towards Camelot, towards safety. He only had time to see the realisation on Arthur’s face before being blinded by white light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed all those fun and familiar characters cause you’re not gonna see them for a while!


End file.
